


Bloodlines

by NinjaSniperKitty



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Also Rahadin backstory if you're into that, And the destruction of the dusk elves, Blood, Curse of Strahd, Dusk elves, Ear Mutilation, Gen, Implied/Referenced Genocide, Rahadin being his sadistic self, This is background to Kasimir getting his ears chopped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:13:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25342279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NinjaSniperKitty/pseuds/NinjaSniperKitty
Summary: Rahadin visits the dusk elf encampment for the first time since he and the von Zarovich army had run the dusk elves—those that Rahadin had once called family—from their villages like rabbits. After having orchestrated the death of Strahd's betrothed, Rahadin has some personal business with Kasimir.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11





	Bloodlines

A light drizzle washed across the land, casting a thick gloom upon the valley. Droplets of water cascaded down my cowl, yet I was not bothered. A chill was beginning to settle in my bones; I would need to find a fire soon. Thankfully, I could see the warm glow of Vistani caravans up ahead. Yet I was not there to talk with the Vistani. I had other tasks to attend to with little time to spare. 

As I approached the encampment, a Vistani guard raised his bullseye lantern and called out to me.

“No further, traveler! State your business!”

From the light cast across his face, I could make out the face of the Vistana known as Iosif. A moment’s glance was all it took. After having lived in Barovia for centuries, there were few faces that I would not have recognized. 

I had no time for half-hearted pleasantries with some oaf that reeked of horses. “I am here on official business from Count Strahd von Zarovich. I have come to speak with the dusk elf Kasimir Velikov.”

The Vistana squinted his eyes for a moment before they widened with recognition. “Oh, Master Rahadin! My apologies, I didn’t recognize you with all of this rain.” He scratched at his long beard. “Kasimir, you said? You’ll find him in the hovel to the west.”

“Thank you.” Without waiting for a reply, I trudged past the man. I stayed on the outskirts of the hill. The last thing I wanted at that moment was to be pulled into the Vistani’s merrymaking. I was not convinced that they slept as other humans did; each of my visits in recent memory had been wed with a cacophony of singing, storytelling, and bellowing laughter. Even then, I could hear the sounds of stringed instruments and laughter being carried on the wind. Not even the rain could dampen their spirits. It was an obnoxious quality, if not admirable in some ways; every other citizen in Barovia seemingly had a permanent scowl plastered on their face. 

Despite sticking to the outskirts, I could still smell the horses that dotted the top of the hill. I wrinkled my nose and increased my pace. The sooner I could get out of that stinking camp, the better.

I passed several hovels on the way to my destination. Each house was built into the side of the great hill. The decorative lanterns hanging from their eaves guided my way. Eyes peered out at me from dirty windows, taking great care so as to not meet my own. Dusk elf guards, those that I had called  _ kin  _ once upon a time, were stationed before each home. They muttered vague attempts at insults in elvish as I passed:  _ traitor, murderer, outcast.  _ None of their words bothered me, however. I chose to hold my tongue. Spiders did not concern themselves with the opinions of flies.

Kasimir’s hovel looked no different than the homes of the other dusk elves. Despite his position as the unofficial leader of this ragtag bevy, he prided himself in his modesty. Unlike the other homes, however, this one in particular was guarded by three gray-cloaked guards standing beneath the warm glow of its lantern. The three quickly stopped their conversation and turned their attention to me as I approached. If they placed their hands on the scimitars at their waists, I chose not to comment on it.

“General,” one of the guards—Carrical, if I recalled—greeted brusquely. “Or is it ‘steward’ these days?” There was a look of wariness behind his gray eyes that spoke of the distaste the dusk elves held for me. They shared ancestry and physical features, but as far as I was concerned that was where our commonalities stopped.

“Chamberlain, actually.” I cut right to the chase. I knew that these people had no desire to engage in small talk with me, and the feeling was mutual. “I’m here to speak with Kasimir.”

Before I could reach for the handle, Carrical stepped between me and the door. “What business do you have with Kasimir,  _ traitor?”  _

The man was almost a head taller than me; his peers often jested he’d been gifted the brawn of a human and only half the wits. Yet no matter how much he puffed out his chest, he was doing a terrible job of intimidating me. I could see the way his hand trembled on the hilt of his sheathed sword. Truly pathetic. I shot Carrical a teeth-baring smile. “I don’t believe that is any of your concern. If you would prefer, however, you could petition your lord for an explanation—”

“There is no need to involve Strahd!”

A look of panic synchronously swept across the faces of the guards at the mention of my master, and I absolutely reveled in it. “He is your lord and master. Address him with the respect he deserves.”

“Of course. I, ah, meant no disrespect to Lord Strahd.”

How quickly they could change their tune… “Mm, of course not. Step aside, please.”

Carrical did so, but not before I caught a glimpse of the fear behind his eyes. Once a proud people, the dusk elves had fallen so far in my absence. A pity, really. 

As my hand brushed the handle of the door, Carrical spoke up once more. “If you would, leave your weapons outside. They shall be returned to you when you disembark.”

I had no intention of adhering to such a pointless gesture as I knew the dusk elves lacked the spine to enforce it in the first place. I merely rolled my eyes and entered without another word.

A wave of warmth washed over me as I stepped into the vestibule of Kasimir’s home. Even this area was well-decorated. Drying herbs and flowers lined the wooden walls, giving the home an earthy and pleasant scent. Out of sheer habit (and not out of respect, I acknowledged), I toed out of my muddied boots and placed them beside Kasimir’s on the straw mat before proceeding into the next room. 

I found Kasimir sitting on a cushion beside a roaring fireplace along the far wall, his back turned to me. Kasimir did not bother to turn away from the fire as I sat on my shins across from him.

His voice was soft when he finally spoke up after several minutes of silence. “What is it you want?”

“It is nice to see you as well, old friend.”

“Haven’t we suffered enough?”

At that, Kasimir turned around. In the glow of the firelight, I could see the heavy bags that had formed beneath his eyes. His dark hair that had been done up every time I had seen him previously now hung loosely at his shoulders in unwashed strands. Had circumstances been different, I would have almost pitied the creature.

“You seem to assume that I have ill intentions in being here.”

“Do I offend you with my assumptions? The last time you were amongst us, you and the von Zarovich armies were hunting us like rabbits, burning our villages to the ground in your wake. Forgive me if I have no love in my heart for you, Rahadin.”

“Straight and to the point as always, Kasimir. I have always appreciated that about you. No, your assumptions are not wrong. I am sure you know the reason for me being here.” I cleared my throat, signaling an end to this meager facade of polite conversation on my part. “As punishment for murdering his betrothed, Patrina Velikovna, and with the understanding that you were responsible for its orchestration, Lord Strahd has requested reparations in the form of your life.”

“I see.” Kasimir turned away to the fire once more. There was a distant look in his green eyes. Silence filled the room once more. 

I took advantage of the lull to look around Kasimir’s abode. An expensive-looking tapestry depicting a dense forest hung along the east wall. My eyes scanned over the cubby holes along the west wall, and my gaze fell upon the wooden statuettes of elven deities in each hole. It was strange; it had been so long—centuries, perhaps?—since I had last paid homage to these deities, yet I could still name them all by heart: Corellon Larethian, Aerdrie Faenya, Deep Sashelas, Erevan Ilesere, Fenmarel Mestarine... Names of deities that I had spoken over and over throughout my younger years at the foot of alters. Names of deities that could no longer see nor hear me through the dense fog of Barovia.

Kasimir finally spoke up. “I don’t regret what I did—killing Patrina. I weep for my sister. My heart aches for her and I miss her with every passing moment. Gods, how I miss her...” The light of the fire cast a shadow across Kasimir’s face, but I could see a hint of his lips, orange by the glow of the fire, twist into a mockery of a smile. “But at least I may rest easy knowing that  _ he _ will never get his foul hands on her and that her soul is safe.”

The poor, misguided fool. No soul was safe in Barovia. If only he knew just how uneasy his sister’s spirit was in the crypts of Ravenloft… “To be honest, I was pleased when I heard that your people had stoned Patrina to death. Your sister was a harlot and was only interested in my master for his power. If you hadn’t done it, I surely would have had some sort of accident befall her.”

“  _ ‘Your  _ people.’ _ Our  _ people, Rahadin. Your blood runs through their veins just as mine does. Just as Patrina’s did. For gods’ sake, my own mother was your wet nurse when you were just a babe! How can you be so callous towards the suffering of our people, so blind to the suffering Strahd has inflicted?!” 

“These are not my people,” I bit back, though my voice did not raise. Perhaps Kasimir had learned his diplomacy skills from the Forest Folk—shouting like a maddened beast. “These people exiled me, cast me aside for wanting them to aspire to more.”

“Kasenova was our prince by birthright and you know that, Rahadin! It was not your place to oppose his rule!”

“Kasenova was an arrogant boy unfit to rule a stable, let alone a kingdom! Were it not for the blindfold of  _ tradition  _ across your eyes, you might have seen that for yourself, Kasimir!” I could begin to feel my face grow hot with anger. The dusk elves had always been a stubborn group too absorbed in their own pride and vanity for their kingdom to truly flourish. It was apparent that I was the only one with any common sense amongst the group!

It would do me no good to have my emotions get the better of me. I had to collect myself. 

_ Inhale.  _

Yet every fiber of my being longed to reach out and slit Kasimir’s throat. 

_ Exhale.  _

I had to collect myself.

“Your people ran me from the village with only the clothes on my back. I had no food, no shelter, no means of protecting myself outside of what little innate knowledge of the arcane I had at the time. I was in my fourth decade, hardly mature enough to be living on my own. But who batted an eye when the humans spat upon me? When I begged for food on the outskirts of Bellemeade, only to feel the point of a boot buried in my gut? Not a soul, Kasimir. No tears were shed for me. I foraged in the forests when I could, yet there were days in which I was uncertain if I would survive the night. When the good King Barov finally sacked that pitiful excuse of a city, I was more than happy to take up the sword in his armies. I was  _ thrilled  _ when he personally asked me to lead him to your village. I found my place, Kasimir—found my family—as an arrow loosed through your wretched hearts.”

Kasimir’s eyebrows furrowed. “I am sorry to hear that you struggled upon being exiled. Truly, I am. Yet you knew the price of your treachery and you took that risk all the same—consequences be damned! You're nothing more than a petulant child, bending the world's rules to his whim and crying when he's caught!"

“And you knew the consequences when you refused to swear fealty to your rightful ruler, King Barov! When you murdered my master’s intended—your  _ sister _ ,” I sneered the word, ”in cold blood!”

I took another deep breath. My face was getting warm with rage, I could feel. This would not do. Anything but stoicism was unbecoming of Castle Ravenloft's chamberlain.

I stood up and approached the shelves containing the carved figures of elven deities, gingerly picking up the figurine of Correlon. It was expertly carved and no bigger than my index finger. Someone had put much time and effort into painting the intricate details of Correlon’s gauntlets. Someone must have crafted this set for him, as certainly, he did not have the gold to afford something like this.

“You are unworthy to touch that. Correlon does not protect your type,” Kasimir muttered under his breath. 

I pretended to not hear him and held it for several more moments, taunting him. The thought of pocketing the figurine briefly flashed through my mind, but ultimately I returned it to the shelf. I was many things, but a thief was not one of them. I was there on business representing the von Zarovich family, after all.

I ensured that I had a pleasant expression on my face before turning back around. “While it has been lovely catching up with you after all of these years, Kasimir, let us get back to the reason I am here today: the murder of Patrina.”

“If you're here to kill me, then get on with it. I only regret that my final moments were shared with you.”

I felt myself frown at that. I had been hoping for at least some sort of reaction from him. He was going to make this boring.

“While Lord Strahd has asked that I take your life, I am feeling particularly generous today. Instead, I will only take the tips of your ears.”

His attention snapped to me, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “Why? Why not just kill me?” His eyes darkened once more with suspicion.

“I would offer this mercy to honor the kinship we once had. Be grateful—so rarely would I ever dare to go against the orders of my master.” I began fidgeting with the lacing on one of my bracers. “We are a proud race. To have the tips of one's ears removed would be a mark of shame. I want others to look upon you and remember your failures. I feel a long life of guilt is a worse punishment than death. Plus,” I met Kasimir’s gaze once more, smiling, “your ears would make wonderful spell components for my master.”

“You're sick.”

“Such a sharp tongue! Perhaps I will take that as well.”

Kasimir was silent for a moment, yet he continued to stare me down as if trying to call me out on a lie. The light of the fire made him look far older than his actual years. “And if I say no to this little  _ act of mercy _ ?” The words rolled off of his tongue like venom.

Defiant, even when his life was being threatened. I found it somewhat surprising; the memory of him and his people being cornered by King Barov’s army, of how quickly he surrendered, was still a vivid memory for me—one that I frequently revisited in my trances. 

Without missing a beat, I replied, “I will kill you. Whether you choose to lead your people for another five centuries or die with whatever remains of your dignity, it really makes no difference to me. I just need something to bring back to Lord Strahd.”

He shot a teeth-baring smile at me. “You seem so confident in your ability to kill me.”

“Please. My blade would sever your windpipe before even one of those second-rate spells left your lips.”

“And you think that the other dusk elves would let you get away with you murdering yet another of their kin?”

That was enough to stop me in my tracks. His words did not bother me. I had seen how pitiful the dusk elves had become. They wouldn't dare raise a finger if it meant upsetting their lord and master. Yet Kasimir’s game was growing tiresome. I offered him mercy, and he threatened my life...  _ The ungrateful cur.  _ Had it been anyone else, I would not have hesitated to slit their throat for such disrespect.

My restraint failed me. My voice was colder than the winds whipping at the panes. “I have 20 undead spawn waiting on the outskirts. If I do not return within the hour, they have been instructed to lay waste to this encampment and to leave no survivors.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Correct.  _ They  _ would. Now listen closely, while those ears are still intact. You have two choices here: I will take your ears, or I will take your life. The decision is yours.”

Silence filled his home once more. Kasimir's gaze turned toward the fire, as if it held the answers he sought. I could tell that he was deep in thought. “...Only the tips of my ears?“

“Yes.”

“And no harm shall befall the other dusk elves?”

“I shan’t lay a finger on your men.”

“Do I have your word, Rahadin? Surely you must have some shred of honor left.”

“You have my word, Kasimir.”

“...Fine.”

_ I had him.  _ “ ‘Fine’ what?”

“Cut my ears. Let it be my  _ atonement, _ ” Kasimir growled.

Like a cat that got the canary, my smile widened. “I knew you still had those wits about you, Kasimir.” I patted the side of his face, only to have Kasimir reel away as if I had burned him. Now that I had his consent, there was no time to waste. “Hand me your dagger.”

“Don't you have your own blade?”

I gestured to the scimitar on my belt. “I'm carving a trinket, not felling a tree. Your dagger, if you would be so kind.”

Kasimir swallowed heavily and eyed the sheathed dagger at his waist. With trembling fingers, he pulled it from its sheath and held the blade in the fire before handing it to me.

I took it from him. Like most things in his home, I was finding, it was finely crafted and well cared for. I couldn't help but wonder how many times he had actually used the blade or if it was merely for show. Perhaps he used it to cut vegetables. I had never understood Kasimir to be much of a melee fighter.

Upon turning my gaze back to him, I was delighted to find that sweat was already beading up along his face and soaking through the gray robes he wore. He still sat on his calves, yet the fingers on one hand tapped along his thigh. His eyes did not meet mine, even as I sat up on my knees at his side—but still positioned to where I could still see his face. I would be lying if I said I wasn't feeling somewhat exhilarated at the prospect of watching Kasimir suffer.

I tucked the loose strands of hair behind his ears and began tracing a finger along the shell of his left ear. Practicing lines of where I could cut. There were so many possibilities depending on how kind I was feeling—or how spiteful. The tips, to the concha… Really, I could have cut off the entire ear if I wanted to. An elf’s ears are incredibly important to them, you see. A status symbol. They are what separate us from humans, a reminder to others that we are Correlon’s chosen people. An elf without his ears was an outcast, an abomination.

“Get on with it!” Kasimir hissed.

_ With pleasure.  _ Exhaling as to stabilize my hand, I pinched the tip of his ear and raised the dagger. Kasimir flinched as the steel touched his flesh. I may have held the blade there longer than necessary, savoring the wide-eyed panic in his eyes before I had even made a cut. The unmistakable stench of fear clung to his skin. 

His gaze met mine for a fleeting moment, searching for something in the depths of my eyes, perhaps. Disgust? Pity? He would find no such emotions in my eyes, yet I could read him like an open book. The bags under his eyes spoke of a man that had not found rest in days. Were his trances filled with memories of her? Did he relive her last words, her screams as their barrage of stones broke bone after bone, formed welt after welt? It was neither a quick nor painless way to die. Surely she had had time to beg for her life and plead for forgiveness in the pursuit of mercy. Surely she looked to her brother Kasimir to protect her. Yet his distaste for my master overrode his love for his own sister. And now his eyes shone wet with unspoken remorse and regret, though he would claim otherwise. I had seen a similar look in the eyes of thousands of men prior.

The blade sliced through flesh and cartilage oh so slowly—painfully—while I took my time. He let out a pained gasp and his eyes squeezed shut, his fists balled at his side. I could see tears welling at the corner of his eyes. His blood welled down the blade and onto my arm before dripping onto the gray wool of Kasimir's robes. By the time I was finished, I had half of a bloody ear palmed in my left hand.

Much to my admitted disappointment, Kasimir did not scream, even as the blade began slicing through his other ear. His face twisted in agony and I heard him whimper through it all, yet he did not scream. Perhaps he was afraid of showing weakness to his enemy, but I already knew him for the coward he was.

When my work was finished and his ears were secured in the pouch at my waist, I placed the dagger before him before rising once more. Immediately, Kasimir’s hands went for his ears. Upon feeling half of them being gone, another low whimper escaped his throat and he, presumably, began frantically searching for something to staunch the bleeding. 

My work there was done, and I smiled with satisfaction as I wiped at my bloodied hands with a handkerchief and went to leave the hovel. That had gone much better than I had expected.

I heard Kasimir shout after me as I reached the vestibule to put my boots on once more. “You're a traitor, Rahadin! A sick and twisted traitor! May you burn in the Nine Hells for what you've done!” It was hard to take him seriously when his voice was trembling as if mere moments from tears. I swore I heard him call out to Patrina, apologizing, as I opened the door.

“Take care, Kasimir. Let us hope I do not ever have to return here.”

There were looks of concern plastered on the faces of the three dusk elf guards as I left Kasimir’s home. I could tell that they wanted to say something—most certainly some sort of quip at my expense—but they wisely held their tongues. 

Three of my master's spawn met me at the tree line with hunger in their dark eyes. They were restless, I could tell. Perhaps hoping that I would not return so that they could feed upon the dusk elves like cattle. 

I could hardly disappoint them.

“Kill all of the dusk elf women, even the children. Ensure that none escape.”

The spawn let out a gleeful hiss in unison before bounding towards the hovels like the savage and starving animals they were.

I heard the screams of the dusk elves—those I had once called family—at my back as I mounted my phantom steed and rode back towards Castle Ravenloft.

Strahd would undoubtedly be pleased with my work.

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wrote this for a fanfic competition.
> 
> I love Kasimir despite him being an actual dumpster fire of a character. Our party has revived him from the dead twice. The second time, the spell Reincarnate was used and he came back as a Halfling! c:


End file.
